Before you accuse me of crying louder than the bereaved let me begin by saying that I rely wholly on matatus to commute.
When the crackdown took effect on Monday morning, I was up at 4am with the hope of catching an early bird matatu that would risk ferrying people before the police hit the road.
I got to the stage a few minutes past 5am and found it thronged with sleepy-eyed commuters. I joined them in what appeared to be a choreographed dance of craning our necks left and right, hoping to sight one of the rickety matatus that ply our route. Tough luck!
SCRAMBLE FOR SEATS
Some minutes later, a matatu appeared round the corner. The next thing I knew I was clutching at someone’s coat-tails for support after being thrust by a voluptuous woman who jostled her way into the matatu. The scramble for Africa has nothing on what I witnessed that morning.
I regained my composure just in time to see the conductor order two passengers to alight because the matatu was fully occupied.